


Out of Practice

by Codango



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: Five minutes to eat his turkey sandwich on rye, then there was unfortunately no getting around being in the computer lab for the next forty-five. The text editors all needed updated on the student laptops, and there was still no efficient way to push to all of them remotely. The one time he’d tried to explain the need for cloud computing to the school board hadn’t gone over in a way he’d call well.He rolled up his cardigan sleeves, unbuttoned the top button of his collared shirt. He should probably just spend a weekend here and try to—“Jack! Thank god, I need you.”The breathy plea reached into his primal brain and yanked. He allowed himself a pause before turning around. Soon, he’d be used to this, and even the pause would no longer be necessary before he had nothing but his business-as-usual face to show to…“Miss Fisher,” he said calmly.





	Out of Practice

**Author's Note:**

> For an Iron Fic challenge. Ingredients:  
> * high school AU  
> * fake dating AU  
> * dialogue: "Don't look at me like that."  
> * a rubber duck

Five minutes to eat his turkey sandwich on rye, then there was unfortunately no getting around being in the computer lab for the next forty-five. The text editors all needed updated on the student laptops, and there was still no efficient way to push to all of them remotely. The one time he’d tried to explain the need for cloud computing to the school board hadn’t gone over in a way he’d call _well_.

He rolled up his cardigan sleeves, unbuttoned the top button of his collared shirt. He should probably just spend a weekend here and try to—

“Jack! Thank god, I need you.”

The breathy plea reached into his primal brain and yanked. He allowed himself a pause before turning around. Soon, he’d be used to this, and even the pause would no longer be necessary before he had nothing but his business-as-usual face to show to…

“Miss Fisher,” he said calmly.

The new social studies teacher was leaning out of her classroom door. Her black bob was sleek. Dramatic. It fit her face beautifully. She looked positively delighted to see him.

“You’re not busy, are you?” Grandly ignoring his open laptop balanced in one hand, his coffee in the other, she reached out but didn’t touch him. “I need someone to help me in a class demonstration. It won’t take long?” She batted long lashes once. Nothing overdone. Just enough to make fun of the fact that she was doing it and yet still make his knees weak. Something Jack was beginning to suspect Miss Fisher knew damn well.

“I’m sure I would be of no help to a senior AP anthropology class,” he demurred. “There were a few others in the teachers lounge just now if you—”

“You know the schedule so well.” She beamed at him. “But really, it could be anyone, and you’re here and…available?”

That lilt in her voice. _So_ unfair. “Miss Fisher,” he began with his best put-upon tone.

“Just five minutes. Three.” Cherry-colored lips effected the most demure pout the Davis County school system had ever seen.

Jack glanced over her shoulder. The first row of students were all craning their necks over their desks. He sighed. Looked down into green eyes. “What do you need?” he asked quietly.

A pleased smile curved sensual lips. “I want to go over a few different scenarios detailing consent for the students.”

…

“I’m sorry, what.”

“We’re discussing the changing conversation around consent in sexual relationships, and some of the students have expressed concern about understanding and conveying acceptable cues, and I thought—”

“This is an _anthropology_ class?”

She blinked, as if not finding anything the least bit incongruous about her choice of subject matter and the professed topic of the class. “Cultural adaptations are very relevant to modern anthropology, Jack.” Her tone was slightly chastising.

“Of course,” he said, after only a bit of a pause.

“Excellent.” She took his arm—the one that held his coffee—in both hands and tugged him into the room.

“Oh, I...” He hadn’t actually meant he was ready for this. But then twenty-plus faces followed his progress to the front of the class, like flowers tracking the sun. Right. He schooled his expression. Never let them see you sweat. Not even when Miss Phryne Fisher was all but holding his hand.

“Now.” She dropped his arm, clapped her hands, and gave a vivacious little twirl to stand at his opposite side. “Mr. Robinson and I will work through two or three short scenarios, demonstrating a variety of social situations and levels of relationship.”

Jack’s heart began to pound. 

“We’ll take turns initiating an approach, responding to the first signal, and so on.”

He resisted looking at the class. 

“Of course, you’ll need to adjust anything you see here with some…” She flourished a hand. “…artistic license for your own situation. Gender still plays an enormous role in our society, especially when it comes to power imbalance in potentially sexual relationships.”

But then, looking at Miss Fisher was hardly a better option. She was dynamic, expressive in face, voice, gesture. Chin-length earrings sparkled against rosy cheekbones. Her burgundy wool dress was perfectly within faculty dress code, but it seemed to recognize who wore it. The fabric swirled and clung and released in tandem with every graceful—

“We’ll start with something relatively basic. You’re at a bus stop or in a coffee queue…” She leaned on one hip, assumed a bored look, crossed her arms. “…when you spot someone attractive.” She went for a theatrical double take in Jack’s direction.

The class howled. She already had them eating out of her hand, hardly a month into the new school year. Jack fought back his own smile.

“Perfect stranger,” she clarified. “You have no knowledge of this person’s financial standing, social connections, relationship status, sexual orientation, gender identity, nothing. There are clues here and there, but you don’t know anything for certain. This is as close to a blank slate as you’re likely to find.”

She turned just her head to look at him, slowly, that beautiful, closemouthed smile back in place. Jack attempted to remember he was in a _skit_ in front of _high school_ students. He met her gaze, returned a slight smile, and pretended to study the laptop that was still open in his left palm.

“Acknowledgement,” she told the class. “He’s seen me, but he’s not dropping what he’s doing. Still, did you see that smile? I can afford to test the waters.” She cleared her throat and sidled closer. “Is the coffee good here?” she asked, charmingly innocent.

A student groaned.

“I know, I know!” Miss Fisher waved a hand. “Not my best!”

Jack struggled not to laugh with the rest of the class. She focused on him again, eyes large. He got himself under control enough to respond, “I’m partial to their Americanos.” He swallowed and cast around for something to continue a fledgling flirtation. “Have you really never been here before?”

She cringed and stepped back. A student gave a sympathetic _“ooooo.”_

Jack pointed at him with the hand that still held his coffee. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m out of practice.” He smiled down at Miss Fisher. “I meant to say,” he went on in the low voice that a few dates had told him was pleasant, “is this your first time here? Let me get you something with their espresso. I think it’s the best in town.”

She put a hand to her heart and faked a swoon, to the tune of a few “awww”s from the class. Jack felt a small surge of triumph.

“As you can see—” She faced the class and spoke in her teacher voice. “—even a ‘basic’ conversation can go not exactly according to plan.” 

There were some giggles. Jack shrugged, owning his misstep, and set down his coffee and laptop on her desk. 

“Social cues can be hard,” Miss Fisher said with emphasis. “It gets easier with experience, but sometimes you have to back up and try again. Don’t be afraid of that… _if_ you sense that the advance itself is welcome. In this example, I started a conversation I clearly didn’t have to, a pretty good sign I’d be okay with him taking a second chance. Now, let’s try something much harder.”

Jack put his hands on hips, aiming for capable nonchalance. He could do this. He would. Whatever she thought was a challenge, he would absolutely—

“You’re at work, and you think your employee is attractive.”

Jack’s brain did a record scratch.

“You probably already know that the workplace is not the greatest place to start a romance, due to so many reasons. Job security. Length and informality of professional relationship. Established or absent HR protection. But you’ve decided, nope, this person’s worth it, you need to see what’s going on. ” Miss Fisher turned to him. “And let’s add one more factor. Gender power imbalance. Mr. Robinson will be the instigator. ”

_No. Nope. What._

“Setting the scene…” She sat on the edge of the desk and picked up her laptop. “It’s Friday at four, and I’m wrapping up a project he’s tasked me with.” She opened her laptop and assumed a relaxed focus.

He stared at her.

“When you’re ready,” she said calmly.

Jack took in a deep breath. Knocked on the desk. “Miss Fisher.”

She turned to face him. Smiled brilliantly up at him. “Mr. Robinson.”

He was so very, very glad she wasn’t his employee. “I have to head out early, but I wanted to stress that the project can wait until Monday. Don’t work late.”

She cocked her head slowly. “I…won’t?”

He gave a small bow. “Have a good weekend, Miss Fisher.” He turned to the class. “And that is how you successfully do not ask out an employee.”

A couple of the students laughed, a few booed, several gave disappointed groans.

He held up both hands. “There is no good way to ask out an employee, full stop. Until they tell you they’re actively looking for another job, or you decide you are, they’re off limits.” He folded his arms and met a few individual gazes sternly. “And if an employer is trying to get any of _you_ to go out with them…know that what they’re doing isn’t acceptable. You can always approach a faculty member you trust here if you need to.”

Several of the students glanced away. A few stared at him soberly. One of them nodded, biting a bottom lip. Well. That was one way to bring the mood of an entire classroom to a thudding halt. Perhaps…yes. Time to go.

Jack collected his things from her desk. “Let me know if you need anything else, Miss Fisher,” he said.

She was sitting up straight. Eyes wide. Eyebrows lifted. She nodded faintly.

Definitely time to go.

* * *

Two days later, Jack was at his desk in the storage room that passed for the office of an instructor who taught all his classes in a computer lab. He was still stewing in mild frustration.

The whole thing had been a bad idea.

Any one of her students—probably several of them, given his luck—had probably read him like a book. Gaping after Phryne Fisher as she led him gracefully by a metaphorical leash into her classroom. He leaned back in his chair, put his hands over his eyes, and groaned softly. Flirting with her in front of students. What had he been _thinking_ —

A prolonged chew-toy squeak interrupted his thoughts.

He shifted his hands to open one eye but otherwise didn’t move. The rubber duck he kept next to his monitor was held in front of his face by fingertips with nails painted classic red.

“I’m utterly charmed, Jack,” Phryne… _Miss Fisher_ … said. “You decorate your office with vintage bathtub toys?”

Slowly, he lowered his elbows to the arms of his chair and folded his hands. “Mr. Feynman is a trusted advisor, Miss Fisher.” He gave her his most serious look, the one that always seemed to make her laugh in faculty meetings. “Not decor.”

“Indeed?” She examined the duck with gravity. “Perhaps I should acquire one of my own.”

“You could probably do better than the traditional engineer’s talisman, if you’re looking for advice.”

“I am, in fact.” She set down the duck. Exactly where he normally kept it, Jack noticed. 

“Ah?” He glanced around his microscopic office. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better seat, but…”

She motioned for him to stay in his chair when he began to stand up. Jack nearly swallowed his tongue when she slid onto a corner of his desk, one thigh a delicious curve against her skirt.

“I was hoping I could procure a continuation of your help from Wednesday.” She focused on the rubber duck. Tapped its beak. “The kids had a few questions, and I wondered if I could talk you into a follow-up? They’re at that age, you know, part-time jobs. Meeting new people. A couple of them asked for a demonstration between coworkers?”

His blood roared in his ears. Had she just...?

She glanced up at him. The tiniest little look through long lashes. Innocent, but also limned with the expert coyness he’d seen flashes of since the beginning of the year. It was tantalizing. Mesmerizing.

She was inescapable.

“Well, I do appreciate the advance warning instead of being press-ganged from the hall.” He smiled his own challenge at her. “In fact, I could do with a rehearsal round, I think.”

Phryne smoothed one finger down the duck’s back, her mouth a pretty smirk. “You did say you were out of practice.” The sultry timbre of her voice said that she certainly wasn’t.

He could keep it together as long as she could. “You could offer instruction over dinner this evening.” 

Her laugh was something he’d replay at night until further notice. “Anything for anthropology.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/marcella_writes)!


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